Compassionate Warfare
by selenia-sopheria
Summary: There's a glint in her eye, and a battle of love commences. Jude/Leia


**Does anybody else support this pairing, or is it just my love for Jude and Leia as individual characters that made me write this?**

**I like their relationship a lot, and maybe I just have a fetish for pairing up childhood friends romantically, but what's written is written! Alvin/Leia is starting to grapple my attention a bit more right now, so I might write something dedicated to that pairing next.**

**I've lost my drive to write recently, and I am literally publishing this right after I'd just finished it, so I hope this one-shot doesn't have too many jarring errors… But I'm into ToX now, so I might be spending a lot of time on this section in particular. Enjoy!**

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After she would squeeze his hand in peppy assurance, he would chide her, saying, "Life doesn't revolve around competition, Leia," yet he would be the one to squeeze her hand doubly as hard, then her triply, and the cycle would continue on and on and on, smiles turned forcefully sweet, grips trembling from the crushing embrace of their hands, until they would loosen up at precisely the same time—though, she would argue that she had held on for a fraction of a nanosecond longer, and his response would be a cool, nonchalant "Whatever you say."

For the sake of upholding a mature front, Jude would calmly brush off Leia's assertions after battle, whether verbal or physical or _platonic_, that she was the victor. But inwardly, he would be scoffing and smug, the unnaturally pretentious side of him only able to be drawn out by her bait: _Yeah, right._

It had been the case since childhood. A good-natured rivalry, cultivated by playful punches, witty back-and-forths, and the thrill of half-surprise, half-expectation he had experienced when shouts of "Sparring time!" would assault his eardrums; then déjà vu would strike him like a dart, and the only thought that would run through his mind before the pending clash of staff on rib cage was _Maxwell, Leia, the bruises from last week _just_ healed this morning._ Eventually, that durable relationship as frenemy and frenemy thrived into something greater, until it reached the pinnacle of affection: love.

Yet not even _love_ could have interfered with their constant warfare.

It was just included.

"It's getting pretty late, so I'll be heading to my room now. Good night." With a tender smile, Jude stood up from Leia's bed, his hand slipping away from her hold. "Sweet dreams."

"_Sweeter_ dreams," replied Leia, just as gentle—but with a smidge of zeal in her voice.

"_Sweetest_ dreams." Jude froze at the door, palm limp atop its handle.

The words had escaped his mouth, whether out of forced habit or because a subconscious portion of himself was silently willing to undergo a late-night challenge, _or_ because he was just so accustomed to biting her bait that he'd decided to sprinkle some of his own before Leia's competitive spirit. Even so, this was _not_ one fish he wanted to lure in.

The words had flown off of Jude's tongue, breached her ears, and—much to his chagrin—it was hook, line, and _crap_—sinker.

"Sweetest _sugar-coated_ dreams."

And now, he was amidst a theater of war.

He chanced a glance behind his shoulder and caught sight of Leia, arms folded, lips pursed upward in jubilance.

Despite himself, after a moment's inevitable thought, he countered, "Sweetest sugar-coated _luscious_ dreams."

"Sweetest sugar-coated luscious _syrupy_ dreams!"

"Sweetest sugar-coated luscious syrupy _sacchariferous_ dreams."

Ooh. That one felt good.

He took pleasure in watching her eyes dilate and her jaw pound the floor. He knew she was a tough nut—she regained proper footing almost instantly and began rummaging through her brain of a weapons chest for a counterattack—but it was _so_ hard to resist the smug grin his lips were twitching upward to create.

"Sweetest sugar-coated luscious syrupy sacchawhazzit _honeyed_ dreams!"

"Sweetest sugar-coated luscious syrupy saccha_riferous_ honeyed _nectarous_ dreams."

"Sweetest sugar-coated luscious syrupy _sacchariferous_ honeyed nectarous _scrumptious_ dreams!"

"Sweetest sugar-coated luscious syrupy sacchariferous honeyed nectarous scrumptious _savory_ dreams!"

Suddenly, Leia steeled herself—something new in the arsenal. She leapt on top of the bed, inhaled dramatically, chest puffed out and fisted hands boldly alongside hips. She was poised to scream, and despite Jude's frantic gestures for her to _calm the spirits down_, she wreaked havoc.

"SWEETEST SUGAR-COATED LUSCIOUS SYRUPY SACCHARIFEROUS HONEYED NECTAROUS SCRUMPTIOUS SAVORY _SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS_ DREAMS!"

Before Jude had the opportunity to either smack his head into his palm or bust a gut convulsing with laughter—he didn't know which he would have done—he felt the door handle turn from underneath his hand, and just barely backed up in time to avoid the wood of the door ramming into his face.

The innkeeper stared from the entrance, his entire body rigid, but his eyes savage, feral.

Daunted and desperate, Jude whirled around to Leia for support—only to find her posed on the bed to sleep, palpably false (not to mention exaggerated) snores rattling her figure.

Outwardly, he gulped. Inwardly, he swore with such vehemence that would have dropped his title of _honors student_ as quickly as Alvin had pinned it on him.

When Jude had recovered from his short-lived stroke, he willed his eyes to peer into the innkeeper's; after all, it was the _least_ amount of respect he should have given him after the immature, disrespectful battle that had just transpired earlier. Undoubtedly, they had woken up several other customers throughout the inn due to what must have seemed like ridiculous jargon. While he struggled to grope for the right words to say, the innkeeper, blunt and straightforward, outstretched his palm and gestured for compensation: gald.

"I-I'm sorry for the trouble, sir," said Jude earnestly, and certainly not without guilt. He considered making a quick trip to his room to fetch his wallet and offer the man a substantial amount of gald for reparation, but another thought had lit his mind, and a completely distinct set of words was out of his mouth before he could think twice. "Would it be okay if I just canceled the rent for my room as payment?"

He could only have imagined Leia's reaction from behind—at least, as much of a reaction she could make with the innkeeper's piercing drills for eyeballs scrutinizing every square inch of the two.

The man's dark eyes bore into Jude's anxious ones, the silence clouding the room becoming discomforting. Even Leia's "snores" had ceased, since her attention must have been on what would come out of the innkeeper's mouth next, waiting for somebody to slice the accumulating tension. Finally, the floor creaked, footsteps reverberating off the quiet hallways as the intimidating man slowly made his leave.

After loosening his stiff shoulders and puffing out a high-strung breath accrued by the apprehensive situation, Jude scarcely had enough time to close the door before he felt Leia's hand grip his arm and lead him toward the bed with such intensity his thoughts jumbled to conclude that _Oh, boy, she misunderstood just as I thought she would, and now I'm going to have to add fornication to my list of crimes—_

"Wait," he yelped, his body hitting the bed clumsily. "Don't misunderstand! I was planning to stay in your room so I could—"

"Sleep on the floor like a gentleman? I know you too well to misunderstand, Jude." Leia began positioning him in a sleeping position, throwing his dangling legs over the bedside onto the sheets. He sat there, dumbfounded, allowing Leia to do whatever she wanted as she continued adjusting his posture like a quiescent mannequin. When the blanket was cast over his body, he understood—with stern disapproval—her intentions, and made to sit up and object, but firm hands grasped his shoulders and pushed him back down. "Don't even think about it, mister. That was a dumb move I pulled back there, yet you still played goody two-shoes and covered for the both of us. And then you _still_ want to play the good guy and willingly volunteer to get some shuteye on the cold, dusty ground?"

Talking her out of this state would have been a waste of time, Jude deduced, and he was already succumbing to the softness of the mattress. "At least take a blanket," he said, still troubled by concern.

"Of course," she replied, obliging, and then making her way to the opposite side of the room. He watched her as she set up her makeshift bed; when she was finished, she turned to him with a sunny smile, sifting his bangs away from his eyes. "Go ahead; lie down. I'll be just fine."

"You know I can't help but worry."

"I know… and I'm grateful for that." Her smile softened. "Thanks."

He returned the smile, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear with as gentle a touch he could muster, and then found himself content to relax and lean back against the covers. Once she had settled into her sheets, he blew out the candle by the bedside, enveloping the room in a soft darkness. Jude was waiting patiently, expecting Leia's final remark of the evening, and soon enough, her bubbly voice flew in a quiet whisper.

"This gives me points for the atonement competition."

His lips curved upward. "Still horrendously behind me in that category."

He sensed her pout in the shadows. "Sweetest sugar-coated luscious syrupy—"

"Go to sleep, Leia."

As soon as Leia's soft snores echoed quietly throughout the small room, Jude discreetly sat up, cautious not to wake her, and let the rest of his blankets spill over her. He was not cold; he knew she was shivering.

Now, he was unburdened, without worry, and fell asleep with a light smile.

After all…

He was in the lead, and he had to maintain it.


End file.
